


Sneaky Tricks and Snickers Treats

by ProstheticLoVe



Series: We Take Care Of Each Other [2]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Dealing with PTSD, Halloween, Husbands, Ian stands up for his husband, Lip isn’t a bad guy he just doesn’t think sometimes, Lip thinks he's funny, M/M, Mickey deals with his PTSD sort've but not exactly, Mickey needs a little of a push, Post Season 10, References to PTSD, Season 11, There's a description of violence but it's not very graphic, domestic bitches, references to past abuse, scary moments, terry is shitty, they don't resolve anything but they do try to talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:16:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27306892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProstheticLoVe/pseuds/ProstheticLoVe
Summary: It’s Halloween Eve. Lip thinks he’s funny. Mickey has a scare. And Ian just wants to take care of his husband. At least there are Snickers bars.Or Ian and Mickey celebrate Halloween.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: We Take Care Of Each Other [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1993684
Comments: 12
Kudos: 205





	Sneaky Tricks and Snickers Treats

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: No one belongs to me! If they did, we’d have a whole show of Gallavich scenes.
> 
> Author’s Note: So this story... lol. First Happy Halloween! I love Halloween. It's my fav holiday and it's kinda drab this year, so I decided to write instead.
> 
> Anyway, this story, I'm not sure how I feel about it, but I wanted to link Halloween and Mickey's PTSD so they can start to have conversations about it. I don't think it's one of those things that Ian and Mickey bring up in the beginning, but I think they would later on, if that makes sense. So this fic doesn't directly have them talking about it, but they do start to have the conversation. Initially, I wanted to write a fic where they had a full complete focus on it, but then I thought that I could see them taking tiny steps toward conversations like this until finally they do have a conversation about it and decide how to proceed. First comes addressing it. At least in my mind. It wouldn't be a lets sit down and discuss type of thing. I think it would need to be front and center in their mind. So that's the vibe I was going for. Sorry for the rant! 
> 
> On another note, this one shot can be read alone or part of Never Tear Us Apart. It can be set before the last chapter. However, I left it pretty vague. Mostly it's just a post season 10 fic. 
> 
> Warnings: references to PTSD, slight description of terry being shitty. A lot of sweetness.
> 
> Enjoy!

Pumpkin guts were all over the kitchen table. They were soaking through the stolen newspaper Mickey had laid down to avoid a big clean up. Right now, with his feet propped up on the coffee table and his belly full of Snickers bars and leftover pasta, he was too tired to deal with the mess. 

They had set the newly decorated jack-o-lanterns outside on the back steps. The only Halloween decorations they had bothered putting up. And mostly because Liam and Franny wanted them. 

They had gotten into a tiff about where to put the pumpkins since the kids wanted the front so everyone could see them. But Mickey knew this neighborhood and he knew Frank and he didn’t want them to be disappointed when they were stolen or destroyed.

Or both.

Slouched into the couch with Carl on one side and Liam on the other, they watched  _ Halloween _ . 

It was truly - for the first time in Mickey’s life - a traditional night before Halloween. Mickey hadn’t ever really thought much about Halloween until this year. 

Well, he tried not to think much about Halloween ever.

He remembered as a kid getting excited for the holiday, stealing things for his costume, and talking animatedly with his brothers and Mandy about dressing up. Not to mention the excitement of scaring other kids. Then Terry would tell them they had exactly 20 minutes to get as much candy as possible before they brought it home and he took it.

And it wasn’t the worst thing his father had done to him as a kid, but at the time, it was...not great.

To put it mildly.

As he became a teenager, he focused on going to parties and getting as fucked up as humanly possible. One party he’d gone to, he watched as some guy blew chunks all over himself and then passed out on the floor. Mickey could still remember almost stepping in it as they left.

And now as a married man (something he never thought he’d be), he was having a quiet night before Halloween with his brother in-laws and his niece. Tomorrow, he and Ian would take Liam and Franny trick or treating. After they’d come home, cuddle up on the couch, and try to warm each other up against the cool fall evening. They’d probably ‘check the candy’ or whatever adults said they were doing just so they could steal a few pieces of sweet treats from the kids.

But Mickey was going to make sure that the pieces of candy they ate were not either of their favorites. And they only took a few pieces. 

He’d bought a large bag from Costco the week before to ‘give out,’ but really it was for him and Ian.

(But if he was being honest, anything that they bought usually ended up being for the whole house because anyone named Gallagher didn’t know about fucking boundaries.)

It was truly Ian’s fault for getting him mixed up in the whole trick or treating thing. He was content to sit on the couch with his husband, eat some pizza, snarf down some Snickers bars, and watch something funny on Netflix. 

Ian had been the one to volunteer the both of them to take the kids out tomorrow night. It would be Franny and Liam and one of Liam’s friends. Debbie had begged and pleaded for them to take Franny and then Liam had mentioned he was going around the neighborhood alone. Mickey had sighed and thought about his own experiences on Halloween in the neighborhood. How the other kids had fought him for candy. How the neighbors were too fucked up to hand anything out. How the candy they did end up getting was shitty and always fell into Terry’s hands.

With those memories in mind, he made the decision for all of them to head to the Northside and go trick-or-treating. Because there people actually gave a shit and said things like “aren’t you darling” and “here, take another handful.”

Of course, Ian gave him moon eyes when he voiced the idea.

Mickey had pretended he didn’t see the openly sweet expression on his husband’s face. The soft, warm eyes that radiated love that he always reserved for him. Instead, he’d itched his eyebrow, ducked his head, and mumbled a ‘whatever’ under his breath.

Ian had kissed him on his forehead and wrapped himself around him like a fucking giant organatan.

Mickey tried to glare at him until Ian was leaning in again and kissing him hard on the mouth. After that, he couldn’t even muster the energy to pretend he minded when his husband looked at him like that.

Like he was his world.

The memory made him feel ooey-gooey like the center of a Three Musketeers Bar.

Carl had just put Franny down for the night while Debbie was out with Sandy at some haunted house. Ian had picked up a late shift on the pretense that the holidays were coming up and he wanted to take some time off, so they could celebrate their first year as a married couple together. His words not Mickeys. 

He was supposed to be home soon and Mickey was ready to cuddle up to him and go to sleep. He was exhausted from corralling Franny and Liam, who was usually even tempered and quiet, but tonight kept asking him questions about what the holidays were like for him as a kid. He was ready for quiet time with his husband and to be the little spoon - not that he’d admit it. 

“ _ Lindsey, Lester's barking again! And getting on my nerves again… _ ” The annoying girl yelled in the movie.

Mickey shifted in his seat sandwiched between the two youngest Gallaghers and tried to focus on the movie. The truth was he kinda hated scary movies. 

The killers jumping out from right behind the victim.

The blood that oozed out and reminded him of every violent moment he’d been involved in.

Childhood to adulthood. 

The seemingly normal situation that took a turn too quickly to mayhem and chaos.

Maybe it reminded him too much of his life.

Maybe it had to do with his childhood, but watching a movie like--

Suddenly, the front door creaked open. It swung in and out slowly as if the wind was making it move. But it had been raining all day long and despite the chilliness in the house, Mickey knew it wasn’t windy. 

Mickey and Carl glanced over at it to see it fluttering open and closed. The dull noise it made every time it moved caused Mickey’s stomach to tighten in nerves. They shared a look as Liam said, “it’s probably--”

“They’re coming to get you, Mickey,” a low voice moaned from right behind them.

Mickey felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. An iciness slithered down from his neck creeping along his spine. He could hear his heart in his ears and he knew a vaguely familiar sensation began to tingle upwards in his legs. He couldn’t fucking move.

A distant memory flashed into his head of a time when his father had come home late at night and jerked him from sleep by slamming his door shut. Someone had accidentally left the light on and his room was closest to the bathroom, so he was inconveniently always in his path.  
Terry had slammed the door again and again, laughing as Mickey curled tighter and tighter into a ball.

And then he’d lunged on him, dragging him out of bed and yelling about electricity bills and what a wasteful piece of shit he was.

A piece of human decay.

A large hand came down on his and Carl’s shoulders. Bubbling out of him came a scream that matched Carl’s. They jumped up and Mickey grabbed his beer bottle to throw at the intruder when he heard the telltale sounds of Lip laughing.

“What the fuck?” Mickey gasped, wishing his heart would stop racing.

He put a hand to his chest and looked over at Liam and Carl who were both scowling at Lip. He felt the sudden need to run from the house - to get out of this room. He swallowed down the panic that was clawing its way up his throat as memories of gunshots, screams, and laughter resurfaced. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to focus on his breathing and block out Lip’s laughter and his pounding heart.

He was fine.

Everything was fine.

He was okay.

Everything was okay.

“Lip!” Liam yelled.

Carl yelled something else at his eldest brother, but Mickey couldn’t hear him over the rushing in his ears.

“Fuck you, man.” Mickey growled. 

He wasn’t sure if he was talking to Lip or just needing a way to release the building pressure within him. He wanted to punch something.

Lip couldn’t even come up with a retort he was laughing so hard.

Mickey put his hand over his heart that was trying to jump from his chest and scowled even harder. 

He felt sick to his stomach. 

He clenched and unclenched his fists attempting to get his body in order as his head filled with a mix of the sounds of Lip’s cackles and his childhood.

The tingling sensation in his legs didn’t stop and despite knowing that Lip was just fucking around and trying to scare them, Mickey couldn’t seem to catch his breath. He felt a tightening in his chest and he shuffled toward the couch to focus on taking a deep breath in and a deep breath out. He was sure he was going to be sick.

“Are you okay?” Carl asked quietly.

In the distance, Mickey thought he heard another door open and close and the telltale sounds of heavy feet on the kitchen floor.

_ Was Ian home? _

Taking a deep breath and letting it out, he could hear the dying sounds of Lip’s laughter and the birth of Ian’s anger. 

Why was Ian angry?

“Fuck, Mickey are you okay?” 

Taking another deep breath in and another one out, he finally looked up to find all the Gallagher brothers staring at him. Liam and Carl had startled looks on their faces. Lip looked mildly guilty and Ian had a knowing look on his face that made memories that Mickey had long since tucked away resurface. 

Memories like blood on dirty floors.

Gunshots in the middle of the night.

And doors banging open to reveal pissed off fathers.

Not to mention getting pistol whipped to an inch of his life while Ian cried in the corner and was held at gunpoint.

Mickey took a deep breath in and slowly let it out before he finally was able to find his voice again. It sounded scratchy and off to his own ears.

“Fuck off.” 

He got up and staggered toward the stairs. He was worried that if he moved too quickly the sickness that was crawling its way up his throat would escape his body. 

He could hear distant arguing in the kitchen and he vaguely registered that it was Ian and Lip. He didn’t give a shit, he just needed to get away from everyone looking at him. 

He bounded up the stairs and ignored the haunting music from the television as he fell into memories of his past.

* * *

Ian stopped to admire the pumpkins on the back porch. They hadn’t been there in the morning when he left and as much as he wanted to put them out front so everyone could see them, he knew their neighborhood wasn’t exactly known for respecting people’s property. It was probably best to keep them protected in the back.

He bent down to see the three pumpkins that had been carved - or attempted to be carved. One of them was just a regular jack-o-lantern with a wide, creepy grin. Another looked like Jack from  _ Nightmare Before Christmas _ \- Ian assumed that was Liam’s since they had just watched it the other night - and the last one had a lopsided smile with some scribbles on it. A drawn stick figure with a giant smile and some letters that didn’t actually make a word. Ian assumed that one was Franny’s. 

He smiled at them, impressed and a little saddened that Mickey had gotten to carve pumpkins with them while he had to work.

He’d wanted to do that too.

It had been a long shift, one that he wanted to end the second he’d walked through the door. But they needed the money, especially with the holidays coming up. 

He wanted to get something special for Mickey.

Hurrying up the stairs, he pushed open the back door. The first thing he heard was Lip

laughing hysterically. He smiled slightly at the sound and began to advance further into the house intent on finding out what was so funny.

He hadn’t heard Lip laugh in awhile, he realized as he walked further into the house.

He opened his mouth to call out a greeting when he saw Mickey sitting crunched over on the couch, taking deep breaths. Frowning, he looked over at Lip who finally stopped laughing and then at Carl and Liam who were both asking Mickey if he was okay.

The image before him caused his stomach to tighten in dread. The look he could see on Mickey’s profile signaled that something bad had happened. Even from here, he could see how his husband was trying to calm himself. And by the guilty look on Lip’s face, he’d bet that he did something to cause him distress.

The realization made him flex his hands and scowl at his brother.

_ This wasn’t going to be good. _

“What’s going on?” Ian asked.

Mickey didn’t seem to hear him because he exclaimed, “fuck off.” 

And then hurried upstairs.

Ian frowned watching him go and then moved to go after him when both Liam and Carl  rounded on Lip.

“That wasn’t funny, man,” Carl said glaring at Lip.

Lip held up his hands in surrender, “I didn’t know he’d react like that.”

“What happened?” Ian asked again. His voice was harder, more direct, and it caused  three pairs of eyes to turn to him. He took in their varying expressions, from guilt to nervousness. The living room for once was quiet apart from the eerie music that was coming from the television.

“I was just joking around,” Lip said, breaking the silence. 

He wiped at his eyes where tears had escaped and then looked up the stairs. 

“What did you do?” Ian asked.

The dread in his stomach mixed with the anger he was trying to keep at bay. He clenched his fists to try to keep himself in check as his older brother avoided his eyes.

_ Fuck, what did Lip do? _

“Just - I thought it would be funny to scare them. I just - it was supposed to be funny,” Lip said shrugging a little.

As he explained himself, Ian could see his expression becoming more and more apologetic. Putting two and two together, Ian knew that Lip knew he’d stepped over this invisible boundary. But as smart as his brother was, Ian was familiar with all of Lip’s dumbass decisions.

And this one hurt his husband. 

Even if Lip thought he was being funny, Ian could feel the telltale reaction of his overprotectiveness for Mickey - who, while always put on an angry brave face, was a softie underneath - kicking in and blinding him. His anger welled up higher and higher, clouding his judgement. He knew that Lip hadn’t done it on purpose. But it was hard to rationalize it when Mickey was upstairs suffering because of a cheap trick his brother had thought would be funny. Mickey wasn’t as indestructible as he wanted everyone to believe. Lip forgot that a lot. 

“He scared us,” Liam said shortly.

Ian scowled and bit out, “come on, Lip. You fucking know.”

He didn’t want to point out  _ why _ his husband didn’t like loud noises.

He didn’t want to have to remind his brother that Mickey had suffered a childhood that even they couldn’t fathom.

He didn’t want to remember that day when Terry had caught them.

Just one facet in a long list of violent situations Mickey had been involved in thanks to his father and upbringing.

Not to mention, Ian still didn’t really know what happened while Mickey was in Mexico. 

He didn’t think any of those things needed to be said.

That was something Lip - and the rest of his family - should understand.

And it really wasn’t anyone else’s business. 

But even though Lip had known about Mickey and him the longest, sometimes Ian didn’t think he really understood what they went through to get to this point. He thought back to a long ago conversation when he told Lip what Terry had done to them when he caught them banging. 

He wasn’t sure what was going through his head when he’d tried to make a joke out of the situation. 

He knew his brother only wanted to help him, but sometimes Ian didn’t think he understood what being a gay man on the Southside was truly like.

Ian couldn’t really blame him for not knowing what it was like to be gay. But he could hold it against him when he lacked the compassion of what it meant to have a homophobic dad and have his life threatened because of who he was. 

Sometimes, even Ian had a hard time reconciling that since he grew up with Frank and Monica who, while they had many many faults, weren’t homophobic. 

Lip didn’t understand the repercussions of what growing up as a gay kid in the Southside could do to you.

Especially with someone like Terry Milkovich for a father.

“I’m sorry, man, I forgot,” Lip said apologetically. He scratched behind his ear awkwardly and gave a little shrug. “Do you want me to apologize or something?”

Ian nodded and glared at him, “yeah, that’s exactly what I fucking want you to do.”

Lip scoffed and Ian wanted to tell him why exactly it was such a big deal. For once, he wanted his older brother to fucking  _ get it _ , but it wasn’t his story to tell. No, it wasn’t a story that Mickey wanted anyone to know. 

Ian needed to respect that.

And he wanted other people to respect it too.

Just like he had shit he didn’t want other people to know.

Stuff only Mickey understood.

This was just one of those times that Ian needed to stick up for his husband when other people didn’t get why it was such a big deal.

Even if that meant protecting him from his brother.

He could understand Lip not realizing what he was doing, but when he knew what he was doing and openly disregarded him, that’s when Ian had a problem.

“Lip, don’t be a fucking dick,” Ian snapped glaring at him.

“I was joking around. I didn’t think--”

“Yeah, obviously, man. You forget that he didn’t grow up like us. Remember when--”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I just - it’s Halloween tomorrow,” Lip said almost a little pathetically.

Ian gave him a grim smile and began to move toward the stairs not interested in continuing this conversation.

“Whatever, just apologize.”

Ian bounded up the stairs in search of his husband.

* * *

Mickey loved scary movies when he was younger. He watched all of them at one point or another.  _ Halloween _ was a classic with the simplicity of someone just going insane.  _ Nightmare on Elm Street _ was entertaining to make people watch. On the rare occasions he was invited over for playdates as a child, when asked if they wanted to watch a movie, he always suggested that one. His favorite was _ Friday the 13th _ because he loved the creepy music. He loved the creepiness of it all. 

And then he turned 7 and for his birthday Mandy and him watched  _ The Exorcist _ . They were in the middle of it when Terry came home with some friends and wanted to throw a party. He’d forgotten about Mickey’s birthday - or maybe he never knew - but when all those people came home, Mandy and Mickey went to her room to sleep in there. Mickey hated being close to the bathroom when Terry brought people over and he didn’t want to leave Mandy alone. They spent all night listening to Terry destroy the house and then when they’d finally gotten to sleep they heard gunshots going off in the living room.

A lot of screaming. 

Some shouting and another round of bullets.

Then there was laughing.

Deep laughter that they both knew all too well.

It was the same laughter they both heard when Terry was being particularly vindictive.

They knew something bad had happened in the living room, but neither of them wanted to look.

Mickey’s heart was beating so loudly in his chest. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. Especially when there was a loud bang against their door.

Like someone was trying to get inside.

Get to them. 

Mickey wanted to run away from that house. 

Mandy was crying into her pillow.

And while all of it was going on, he kept thinking of scenes from the movie. Playing and replaying. He didn’t understand how any of that was supposed to be scary.

Not when he lived in a house where they frequently heard gunshots and screams and vicious laughter and people throwing shit against walls.

He had a hard time sleeping after that night.

Loud noises made him jump.

Gunshots made him think back to that moment.

His breathing would pick up. 

His heart would shake. 

His hands would quiver. 

He would shiver.

It got to the point where he had to stop watching scary movies. 

They kept reminding him of incidents that had happened in the Milkovich house.

Incidents that made scary movies seem, well, not so scary.

The thing was Mickey hated people scaring him. 

Especially after that night.

Not to mention the many nights afterward that replicated it. It wasn’t the first time he heard gunshots, but that night stuck with him until he learned how to just shove it all down and away. 

Unless he was caught off guard.

But no matter how or who or when someone jumped out at him and tried to frighten him, he knew that no one could do the damage that his youth had done to him.

He didn’t really want to flashback to a time when he was too young and small and innocent to do anything about it. 

How Terry Milkovich took advantage of a scared kid who he enjoyed terrorizing.

So he stopped watching scary movies and turned to action movies.

It was just easier - and cheaper - than therapy.

But Carl had nagged about watching  _ Halloween _ the day before Halloween. It was appropriate, he said.

Fucking creepy, he said.

“Mickey? Mickey?” 

Mickey could hear Ian’s yells from down the hall and he knew that in a mere--

“There you are,” Ian exclaimed coming into the room. Mickey hadn’t even realized he was still standing up when Ian came into the room. He realized as his husband opened the door and tentatively stepped in that he’d been pacing the length of their room. Like a caged animal. His mind coated in the sounds of gunshots and yelling.

Ian opened his mouth - twice - thought better of it, closed the door, and moved over to the mattress. He stared up at him with those green eyes and Mickey tentatively moved to sit beside him. 

His anxiety was still making him jumpy, but sitting beside Ian had the desired effect. He could feel himself settling back into himself. His heartbeat may still be racing, but feeling Ian’s warmth radiating from him made him feel, well, it reminded him that he was still here. That he was okay. That those memories were just that.

Hesitantly, Ian took Mickey’s hands in his own, sandwiching his small ones with Ian’s larger ones. Mickey slouched a bit more into him and he closed his eyes. Taking another round of breathing in and out, he began to relax a little. The anxiety wasn’t as closely knotted together. It was beginning to loosen somewhat. 

He noticed after a few minutes that Ian was matching his breathing to his and that familiar warmth that his husband always made him feel began to bubble around him.

Wrapping him in safety and love.

And acceptance.

They sat there for a few minutes - or maybe it was an hour or two - and then Mickey broke the silence.

“That was weird.”

“What was?”

Mickey shrugged and glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, “it’s been awhile since I’ve felt like that.”

Ian’s hands tightened around his and then relaxed. “What happened?”

Mickey began to pull away, then thought better of it and stayed where he was. “Just Lip being a prick.”

“Yeah I know. But he’s always a prick.”

Mickey cracked a smile. “Fuck yeah.”

They were silent for a few moments. Mickey could still hear his heartbeat hammering in his ears, but it was slowly down. His fight or flight instincts were dwindling away. He took a breath in and slowly let it out, imagining he was letting out all of his anxieties. 

He felt like a fucking idiot. 

No one should have this reaction to their brother in-law playing a stupid trick on him.

Especially on Halloween.

Everyone was entitled to a good scare.

“He just scared us. Carl nagged me to watch a scary movie and Liam - he gave me those fucking pouty eyes--”

“How can eyes be pouty?”

Mickey scowled, “you know what I’m talking about. You do the same fucking thing.”

Ian gave him a knowing smirk and Mickey turned away to hide the smile threatening to come over him. The stretch of his lips felt momentarily strange on his face. 

When he turned back, he made sure the scowl was still in place, but Ian’s answering wider smirk told him he wasn’t fooling him.

“So you watched  _ Halloween _ .”

“Yeah, it’s a good movie.”

“I didn’t know you liked scary movies,” Ian said, his smirk wavering as he said it.

Mickey shrugged, “I don’t watch them much anymore.”

Ian was quiet at that and Mickey wasn’t sure if that was the end of the conversation or not. He almost wanted it to be the end, but he also wanted to finish telling Ian what happened.

“Lip thought he was being funny. He jumped out from behind us.”

Ian continued to look at him. Mickey wasn’t sure what was going through his head, but he could plainly see the pensive look there. Mickey watched one hand move away from their entanglement and move upward to wrap around his shoulders. Mickey sunk further into him while still trying to maintain his fuck off persona. 

But he felt tired and he knew it was slipping.

“I told Lip he was a dick for doing that,” Ian said in such a way that Mickey knew there had to be more to the story.

He looked up. Ian’s lips were in a straight line, a hardness in his eyes that he hadn’t seen for some time.

“What did you do? Tell him to apologize to me?” Mickey snorted.

Ian’s glance told Mickey that’s exactly what he had done.

Mickey scoffed and pushed away from his husband to stand up and begin pacing the room again.

“Fuck off, Gallagher--”

“I know he was just playing around but--”

“It’s not a big deal--”

“Yes, it fucking is!” Ian said quickly.

Mickey glared at him and Ian just stared back, waiting. Mickey wanted to sum up the energy to be angry at him, but he couldn’t find it within himself. Instead, he sat back down and took a deep breath in and slowly let it out as the wheels in his head began to turn.

“It’s really not a big deal, Ian,” Mickey said eventually.

Ian scoffed and shook his head, “yeah maybe not to someone who - who had a normal childhood. He wasn’t thinking. He just...it’s Halloween. That’s what he was thinking about.”

“Halloween is tomorrow,” Mickey said woodenly.

Ian smiled softly, “I saw the pumpkins out on the porch.”

Mickey returned the smile and this time it didn’t feel so strange. “Had to help Franny with the knife.”

“Probably a good idea.”

Silence fell over them once again and Mickey struggled to figure out how to say exactly  what was on his mind without sounding like a complete fucking pussy.

“It’s really not Lip’s fault.”

“Yes, Mickey, it is. He should’ve known better. He’s obviously not an idiot.” 

Mickey thumbed at his lip as he tried to find the words that were bobbing around his head. Slowly, he shook his head and said, “I don’t think it’s normal to feel this way. To - to have this reaction to something - something like a fucking… It’s not normal. Right?”

Mickey could feel Ian’s eyes on him.

“You know, everyone has shit they gotta go through. I see it with Lip a lot. And Fiona. And you. I might have the diagnosis, but we all of skeletons lingering in our closets, Mick,” Ian said quietly.

“Yeah, I know.”

“You don’t have to deal with it alone.”

Mickey sniffed and looked up to find Ian watching him carefully. 

“Sickness and health and all that shit.”

Mickey softened, “yeah and all that shit.”

There was a gentle knock on the door and Mickey and Ian shared a look before the taller of the two moved to open it.

Mickey was unsurprised to find Lip on the other side of the door. 

He had known Lip for a very long time. They had originally been in the same grade after all. But Mickey had never seen the apologetic and shame-filled face he was wearing standing outside their bedroom door. He looked - for lack of any other way to describe it - guilty.

Mickey wondered what Ian had said to him.

“You gotta sec?” Lip asked his eyes darting from Mickey to over his shoulder.

Mickey glanced over at Ian who nodded encouragingly. He huffed and crossed his arms. Then he huffed again - feeling like a petulant child - he stepped back and walked over toward the bed to sit beside Ian. Lip hesitated for a second then stepped over the threshold.

“I’ll leave--” Ian began, but Mickey grabbed a hold of his hand.

He wanted him to stay.

But he didn’t want Lip to know that he wanted Ian to stay.

He felt like a pussy as is.

Ian looked down at Mickey’s hand resting on top of his and then gave him a small smile. He leaned down and kissed him on his forehead. Squeezing his hand a little, he whispered in his ear so that Lip couldn’t hear.

“I’ll be right outside. Make him grovel.”

Mickey smirked in response and Ian took a step back to leave the room. He scowled at Lip and felt the sudden urge to stand up. He didn’t like the other man hovering over him. Moving toward a corner of the room that only housed their dirty laundry, he crossed his arms and waited for Lip to say something. 

Lip sighed, scratched his scalp, and then let out a breath. 

“Look, it was a joke.”

“I know.”

“Ian wants me to apologize.”

Mickey shrugged at that.

“So apologize,” Mickey said when Lip didn’t follow up his statement.

Lip nodded slowly and avoided Mickey’s eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

Mickey didn’t respond to those two words, which prompted Lip to look up at him.

“You gonna say anything?” Lip asked.

Mickey smirked, “like what?”

“I don’t know. Do you accept my fucking apology?”

He shrugged in response and Lip scowled.

“It was a joke, man.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories or--”

“You didn’t do anything,” Mickey snapped back.

Lip scowled, “I said I was sorry.”

“You suck at this apology thing.”

Mickey stared at Lip who was watching him silently.

“I forget sometimes, about - you know, what it was like as kids, I guess. Monica and 

Frank...they were neglectful. Not violent. Well, not usually. Frank - Frank always took out his...aggressions on Ian,” Lip said quietly.

Mickey already knew about this. He knew about Ian getting knocked around. How Ian eventually found out  _ why  _ he knocked him around.

The reminder only made him angrier. 

And sadder.

Their childhoods were so fucked.

Mickey hated that they both had to deal with this shit. Even in their mid-20s. It was bullshit.

“I’m sorry, Mick,” Lip said when he didn’t say anything.

Mickey nodded, “I know.”

He thumbed at his bottom lip and then added, “it’s not a big deal.”

Lip smiled sadly, “we all have our demons.”

He nodded in acknowledgement and then he turned toward the door already to be out of this situation.

“You know in my AA group. There’s a guy who has--”

“Thanks,  _ Phillip _ . But I’m not talking about this with you,” Mickey interrupted.

Lip held up his hands in a surrender motion and then turned and left the room. Ian came in almost immediately and they both looked at each other for a long moment.

“You okay?” Ian asked.

Mickey shrugged, “fine.”

Ian smiled suddenly and moved toward Mickey. He slid his hand in his pocket and produced a king-size Snickers bar. He handed over the candy bar and when Mickey looked up, he found him giving him a lascivious smile.

“Bought it on my way home,” Ian’s grin widened and he waggled his eyebrows at him. “I know how much you like sweet things.”

Mickey laughed softly and leaned in to kiss his husband.

The contact seemed to be the last thing he needed for the rest of the tense edge to be  released from his body. Being in Ian’s arms always made him feel a little more human. A little more calm. 

A little more in love.

He allowed Ian to maneuver them over to the mattress and then they snuggled against each other. Exactly the way Mickey had been imagining earlier. He felt Ian nose at his hair and he couldn’t help but smile at how fucking weird his husband was.

He wouldn’t want him any other way.

He broke the Snickers bar in half and handed Ian one of them before biting into his own. He could feel Ian’s eyes on him before biting into the chocolate bar.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asked once he swallowed the first bite.

Mickey shook his head, “ain’t nothing to talk about it.”

“Mickey.”

If they weren’t back to stomach and leaning against one another in their bed, Mickey knew he’d cock his head in that way he did whenever he wanted to pry out information from him. In response, Mickey scoffed and took another bite of his Snickers. He chewed slowly as he struggled to find his words. 

He fucking hated feelings and shit.

“Maybe, I don’t know, maybe one day we can dissect all this shit. But, fuck. I just want to go to bed, man. Franny is - she’s a fucking handful. And Liam kept asking questions. Can we just - fuck, can we just talk about it later?”

Ian was quiet for a few minutes and when Mickey turned onto his back to look at him, he saw him chewing thoughtfully. Mickey waited for him to finish his half of the Snickers bar. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully.

Finally, Ian said, “sometimes I feel like we put off everything we don’t want to talk about because it’s easier. Maybe we should start - I don’t fucking know - dealing with it. Like the shit with your dad...”

Mickey smiled sardonically and took the last bite of his Snickers. Ian watched as he ate and then licked the melted chocolate off his fingers. He felt his husband’s feet press against his calf and he knew he wasn’t going to get out of the end of this conversation without giving a little of himself.

“Probably. But I don’t think that it’s easier. I think that we just spent a lot of time apart and now that we’re together,” Mickey shrugged a little and cast down his eyes for the last part. “We have decades to talk about our shit. We’re fucking married, man. Like legally. Forever, till death do us apart type shit. All the bad - it’s in the past.”

Ian gave him those moon eyes that he pretends he doesn’t do. “But what--”

Mickey leaned in to place a kiss on his mouth. Effectively cutting him off and finally relieving his body of the last vestiges of anxiety and fear.

_ I just need Ian. _

Pulling away, Ian gazed into his eyes. He gave him that look - like he was everything.

Like he was all he needed to survive. 

Like he was  _ it _ . 

Mickey could feel himself getting red because of those green eyes, so he leaned in and kissed him again and again and again.

He tasted sweet.

Just the way he liked him.

He knew eventually they’d have to talk about all of the shit they both dealt with. How Mickey still sometimes woke up and thrashed around because of loud noises or after being woken up in certain ways. How sometimes he’d have dreams that retold moments of his past. 

But right now, for awhile at least, Mickey wanted to enjoy his sweet treat of a husband.

Mickey didn't think that was too much to ask for.


End file.
